


the hairclip

by erintoknow



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Druids, Fae & Fairies, Gen, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Trans Female Character, pre-transition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25428169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erintoknow/pseuds/erintoknow
Summary: “I know, I know you love me now. I just…” I run my hands through my hair, pulling it around my fingers in loops. One day I’m leaving this whole dumb place behind…Fiach clicks his tongue. “This isn’t just about that, is it?”
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	the hairclip

**Author's Note:**

> The gf invited me to join up with their dnd game a while back; I can't draw so have an flash of backstory fic instead

“Your dirt-eating da isn’t going to save you this time, Darragh Ó Broin.”

I push back into the crevice as Shay continues to growl threats while prowling the dock just above my hiding spot. A loose strand of hair falls over my face, tickling my nose, and I can pounding in my chest and ears. Nothing for it but to grit my teeth and hold my breath, wishing my heart would slow down. Seconds crawl by, the thudding of boots against wooden boards – back and forth.

“I don’t think he’s here, Shay.” One of Shay’s friends. Which one was it? Caolan? No… Rian?

“Where else would he have gone, genius?”

Twisting my fingers in a circle I mouth the words Da’s been trying to teach me for a month now. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as something starts to build, like the whole world is leaning in, listening. I whisper something into my cupped hand and then gesture up and to my left, towards where I heard Rian. The feeling of the universe listening fades away.

…Did I do it right?

“What the– Eugh, what’s that smell, I’m gonna puke…!”

There’s a flurry of activity above me, someone shouts “Where?” Another yells “Darragh!” I have to clap my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing, this is too great. It worked! It really worked! Shay and his goon squad have no idea what they’re in for.

There’s a splash of water, and then Caolan is staring straight at me, black hair running wild over his shoulders. Guess that ponytail of his came undone in the chase through Market.

“Is he down there?” Shay calls.

I wince and stare Caolan down, daring him to say something. Bunching my hands into fists. Can Shay swim? Maybe I can lose them in the water this time.

Caolan stares back at me. Some unreadable expression on his face and then he turns away, looking back up at the top of the wharf. “There’s nothing, Shay. Come on, let’s give it a rest already.”

Huh. You’re alright, Caolan. I guess.

For a crony.

“It was a FROG, Caolan!”

“I know.”

“In my hair!”

“I know.”

“That’s the fifth time this week!”

“You did give them a black eye after the last one.”

“Yeah, and now the little tick is gonna get a matching pair…”

There’s a moment of silence as Caolan climbs back up onto the wharf, and then Shay stamps his foot down hard enough to make the wood shake and scatter dust and gods know what else onto me. “I know you’re here somewhere Darragh, you little rat! When I find you, you’re dead! You hear me? Dead!”

Rian and Caolan murmur agreement and the three storm off.

Hahaha! Suckers.

I don’t let go of my breath until I’m sure they’re gone. Wading through the water, I step out from under the wharf and squint my eyes against the sunlight. Adrenaline is still pounding in my ears as I pull myself up out of the shallows. It’s all I can do not to whoop. No sense spoiling the narrow escape.

Brushing the dirt and the dust off my tunic, I run a hand through my hair. Give it a good tossle to make sure I shake loose any hidden spiders. My pants and boots are soaked, but it’s a small price to pay to have to take a minute and sit on the edge of the wharf. I pull my boots loose, one at a time and shake out the water.

Looks like the sun hasn’t kissed the ocean yet, still plenty of time left to go take care of the shopping Da asked me to do. Shay probably went sulking home, I won’t need to worry about him again today.

I finish relacing and get to my feet, stretch my arms over my head. Open water spans in front of me to the horizon, blue-green shimmering under the sunlight.

This particular dock doesn’t go very far out, mostly for mooring fishing currachs overnight. The rest of the harbor proper is further west, behind the stick of land jutting into the ocean to my left, where the bay runs deep enough to handle proper sailing ships.

From behind the tired pile of housing I can just make out the masts of a ship that pulled into dock this morning. A barc? Something like it maybe. I’d been planning to go poke around but then when the opportunity to mess with Shay had presented itself... and well, who am I to deny Providence her chance?

Maybe if I hurried, I could still get a good look _and_ do Da’s shopping?

In the books, they talk about towns where everything is built in stone, temples of marble, where buildings stretch into the sky, fantastic combinations of labor and magic united. Places where you could walk for hours and still be surrounded by people.

Oileán is… not that.

Oileán, is the singular town on the island with which it shares its name. The name literally just means ‘Island.’ If you really want to get fancy, call it ‘An Oileán’ for _‘The_ Island.’

Oileáners are a creative bunch.

Where most buildings are jumbles of wood, held together with iron imported from the mainland if you can afford it. Hemp rope, beeswax, and prayer if you can’t. Some of the big buildings, like the gods temple and the meeting hall get a little help with a blessing from my Da before a big storm hits, but that’s about it.

Even though I’ve lived here my whole life, I still have to navigate town by dead reckoning. Every back alley has its own name and asking three people for a street will get you five answers. So it’s something of a personal best that it only takes me ten minutes to find my way back to Market.

The one central fixture to the Market is this crumbling fountain with a statue of a mermaid posing, her bare chest thrust out in the direction of the harbor. Or well, everyone assumes it was a fountain at some point. Not even my Da’s ever seen it work, and he’s like, forever years old.

Maybe half the stalls are empty now, as I stroll through, looking for someone still selling groceries. A few people are selling pots, clothes, odds and ends… But no vegetables. Uh – maybe I shouldn’t have spent the whole day screwing with Shay.

But I mean… just look at the lug. The son of the town guard captain? Thinks he’s king of the hill? Sometimes a face just needs punching – or dropping a frog on where punching isn’t possible.

Old lady Aiofé waves at me from her stall, almost lost in the cascading series of quilted blankets. “Darragh Ó Broin! Gods with you this afternoon!”

I wave back, “And with you, Miss Nualliáin.”

Flashing a few teeth short of a mischievous grin, she beckons me over. “Causing trouble again?”

I grin brightly back at her, putting on my best picture of innocence as I make my way over. “Why I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean, Miss Nualliáin.”

Aiofé purses her lips as she leans back on her chair. “Pull the other one, Darragh, it’s got bells on.”

I laugh at that, covering my mouth. “It’s just Dara, Miss Nualliáin.” I correct her, using the feminine construction for my name.

She raises an eyebrow at me, then tilts her head and shrugs with her hands on her lap before continuing. “I saw you and those boys running up and down here. You already forget what happened last time?”

I brush my hair out of the way and touch the skin just below my left eye. “No, ma’am.”

“What are your fathers going to say?”

I cross my arms, cheating away back towards the fountain. Aiofé can be funny – sometimes – but wasting what’s left of the day with a lecture from the cat lady is the last thing I need right now. “Is anyone still selling groceries, Miss Naulliáin? Broin wanted me to pick up some stuff.”

Aiofé sighs and clicks her tongue, shaking her head at me. “I think Oran hasn’t left yet, but I wouldn’t expect much. Should have–”

“Yeah, yeah,” I hold up a hand to cut her off and start walking hurriedly towards the far corner where Oran keeps his stall, “Thanks Miss Naulliáin!”

“You behave yourself!”

“Always!”

Sure enough, Oran has a few things left, and I pick up a few stalks of celery, some carrots, and a head of cabbage, only slightly wilted. Why do we even need to _buy_ food? Broin could just magic it out of the ground if he really wanted, right?

“Hey, Oran–?” I click my tongue and tap my boot, waiting for the old man to wake up. “How much is this cabbage?”

“Wha–whassat?” Oran gives a start, rocking back in his chair and pulling the hat up from covering his face. As soon as he settles on me his eyes narrow. “Oh… it’s Broin’s kid. Whaddya want?”

“The cabbage?” I heft it up for inspection, pulling the hair out of my face with the other hand. “It’s starting to wilt so I was–”

“Copper off.”

“But it’s–”

“No lower.” He squints at me. Is he still holding that winter solstice fiasco against me? I was _12_ , give me a break.

Whatever – This should be fine right? Fiach always boils everything to death anyway. I pay Oran his money and load everything into a bag, his eyes boring into me the whole time.

As much as I want to check out the boat, It’s already been hours and I’m on thin ice with my parents as it is. Home then, is on the far side of town from the harbor. Not even ‘in town’ really, if you think about it. My one Da, Broin is the island’s druid. Way he tells it, he used to live in a literal treehouse before marrying Fiach and agreeing to stay closer to town.

Kind of feels like I got cheated.

Living in a treehouse would have been so cool.

I push the door open with one hand while the other holds the canvas bag secure over my shoulder. “Da, other Da! I got the goods.”

Fiach is already stirring something into a stew pot by the fireplace as I walk in. A huge smile on his face as he looks up. “Hiyo kiddo, what took so long? Sail to Anbelas and back for that?” Swear to the gods young and old, if I ever eat stew again once I travel the world, it’ll be too soon.

I make a show of hefting the bag onto the dinner table, as if it’s way heavier than it actually is. “How’d you know? Had to run three blockades and bribe a dragon to look the other way.”

“A dragon huh?” A clipped voice rolls out from around the doorway to Broin’s study. “The bribe wouldn’t have happened to be toads again, would it?” Broin walks into the room, one hand holding his head as if he’s suffering from a migraine. Exhausted blue eyes bore into me from under graying hair.

How old do elves have to get before their hair turns grey? I’ve never actually asked how old Broin is – I’m not sure he’d tell me.

I don’t let myself stop smiling, “A frog, actually.”

“Dara–”

“He started it!”

Broin looks towards Fiach, fishing for help. Fiach rests the ladle against the rim of the stew pot before stepping towards me, “Dara, did you get hurt–”

“Nah, I’m fine.” I duck my head down and focus on setting out everything I’d bought on the table. “They gave up before they could do anything this time.”

Broin mutters something under his breath in a jumble of Elvish and Druidic that I can’t make out but I’m pretty sure is some sort of curse. “You need to stop antagonizing that Shay boy. I have a hard enough time dealing with his mother as it is.”

I huff, blowing the hair out of my face and crossing my arms as I finish laying everything out. “He’s a bully! He deserves it. Someone needed to take him down a peg.”

“And did the frogs deserve it?”

“Uh–” I hesitate, withering under Broin’s stare. The disappointment is plain on his face.

“You can’t just scoop some innocent amphibian out of their home and induct them into your campaign of terror, Dara. I _know_ you know better than that.”

“They’re frogs!” I stammer, “Who doesn’t love frogs? How was I supposed to–”

“This is the fourth day in the row, did you really think you could spin that web in my ear?”

I don’t have a response for that one. I look at Fiach, hoping he’ll take my side here, but he just shakes his head.

“If you are going to be a druid,” Broin presses, “it’s about time you start treating life with respect. That means _all_ of it. From the frogs to the toads.”

“If I’m–?” I bristle, balling my fists and stepping back. “I didn’t _ask_ to be your apprentice! You just _decided_ one day!”

“Darragh,” Broin narrows his eyes as he stares up at me. When did I get to be taller than him? “Don’t change the subject–”

“Don’t _you_ change the subject!” I throw back at him. “You think just because you took me in, you get to decide everything for me?”

“Dara–” Fiach tries to get a word in edgewise, but I don’t give him the chance to continue.

“I don’t need you, and I don’t need your dumb lessons.” I almost want to say something like ‘you aren’t my real parents anyway’ but I don’t. Neither one of them stops me when I make for the door.

Back outside I take off down the path inland and into the forest. Can’t risk running into Shay and his goons again, not after all that. Besides, I know somewhere better then any cruddy place in town anyway.

It’s getting dark, but despite what people like Shay or his mother think, there’s nothing on this island to be scared of – even deep in the wood. Fiach says in the old days a pack of dire wolves used to live out of the series caves on the far side of the forest, but they’re all dead now.

Broin insists there’s worse things than wolves to run into out in the wood, but then Broin says a lot of things.

I’ve never so much as felt anything strange.

It’s not quite dark enough to warrant a torch but I scoop a good-sized tree branch from the ground to use as one later. It’s an hour’s hike from our house to my destination, and I’ll want it sooner or later. If I can get the spell Da taught me to make it smell like rotten eggs, a little fire once I need it should be easy, right?

By the time I get to my destination the shadows are stretching from the trees full across the clearing. It was a little unsettling the first time I came here, but now it feels comfortable. Almost like coming home, but better.

I’m sure it had a proper name at one point, but all anyone calls it now is ‘The Spring,’ and it’s the one place on the whole island you are absolutely under no circumstances allowed to go. The trees give away to this clearing where the land dips into a small pond with no visible source. Unlike some of the other ponds and lakes on the island, the water never gets coated with algae or other plants. The north bank at the far end dips into a stream that winds its way through the wood until it meets the sea opposite from town.

Everyone has a story about ‘The Spring:’ Someone’s cousin’s brother dove in to find the bottom and never came back up; an aunt’s grandmother’s brother once found a full picnic laid out by the shoreline, helped themselves to a pear, and started aging in reverse.

Fiach likes to tell a story about how he got lost in the woods one day, found the Spring, and was whisked away to another land by a dashing elven man. (Broin always rolls his eyes at that one.)

Broin says there’s a reason everyone has stories about the Spring. That it’s some kind of weak point in the material plane. According to him, the reason there’s no source for the Spring is because the water is leaking in from the Feywilds, the supposed ‘realm of the Fey.’ And under no circumstances am I to ever – _ever_ set foot near it.

So of course, I’ve made it my official home base away from home.

In the dusk light, the water has a deep blue hue, reeds gently swaying in the push and pull of the water at the banks. The buzz of insects is broken by the occasional ‘plop’ of a hungry fish breaking the surface to snatch an incautious dinner.

A jumble of boulders sticks out from the shoreline, perfect seating for me to scoop some pebbles from the lakebed and go stone skipping as the sun finishes setting.

With a flick of my wrist, I send a pebble skipping across the surface of the water, once, twice, three times before it sinks.

I tried to catch something here once – make my own dinner and all, but uh, the fish having an extra pair of eyes gave me pause. I let it go and I haven’t tried again since. A lot of the plants in the water seem different too, but I’m not sure. I’d have to ask Broin and that’d mean admitting I’d been hanging out here.

I don’t need Broin, or his lessons. Wasting weeks listening to him drone on and on and about the ‘deep meaning’ behind random objects or weird hand gestures. Or learning the basics of Druidic – it was already hard enough to keep Elvish straight in my head. I’d rather be practicing my Common, like what the traders who sail in sometimes speak, or learning some kind of skill that could get me on a boat out of here. And who ever heard of a sailing Druid?

I toss another rock into the lake and it sinks immediately, no skips.

Well, okay, Da is literally the only Druid I’ve ever met, but that’s not the point here. When he said he was going to teach me about being a druid I didn’t think it’d be so _boring_.

I reach back to grab the branch I’d set aside earlier – it’s certainly getting dark enough now. As I twist the air with my fingers and mutter the words again, it feels like the buzz of everything around me muffles itself, that sensation again of the world being called to pay attention – listening in.

I flick my finger against the tip of the branch and a red spark jumps the gap, coaxing a flame to life. Weak, maybe a little unsure of itself, but persisting. The buzz of insects fades back in, the world gives me space again.

Okay.

I have to admit.

It _is_ pretty cool to be able to do that.

* * *

“–friendly, aren’t they?”

I shake my head and try to refocus on the woman standing next to me on the harbor dock. She’s tall, or maybe it just feels like she’s tall? Long tresses in unnaturally bright orange and yellow streaks. Tainted glasses obscure her eyes, giving her a serious look. Hard to read. Whenever she speaks there’s a hint of something off. We’re watching porters unload boxes from the ship in the water. The ship is larger than any I’ve ever seen in port, and yet looking at it now – it doesn’t seem all there.

I look back to the woman standing next to me. “Sorry, céard a dúirt tú?” I stutter, slipping back into Oileán as I try to get the words out.

“Still, it doesn’t matter where you are, I suppose,” The woman continues on in Common, as if she hadn’t heard me. “Money talks.” She turns her head to smile at me, pointed teeth exposed. “Money, and a little local support.”

“It’s a good goal,” I mumble and look away. I feel guilty somehow, like I’ve done something wrong but I can’t remember what. In the water someone like me but different stares back up. Wrinkles around the eyes and mouth. The same white hair, but shabbier and shorter. Unkempt clothes, covered by a traveling cloak patched up several times over.

She frowns at me from the water and then it’s my own reflection, hair running over my shoulders, a clean tunic and breeches. I take a step back, “Did you see that–” I turn to look at my companion but I’m standing alone at the edge of the cliffs along the southwest end of the island.

No one is with me and just as it settles into my bones that no one will be ever again, the tip of a sail pokes over the horizon. I curse under my breath, I need to warn them.

* * *

I stutter awake, knocking the makeshift torch loose from where I’d jammed it upright.

The branch falls into the water and I’m swallowed by total darkness. Gods, had I fallen asleep? I swing my hand out blindly into the dark, groping the air, then the rock I’d sprawled out on. Should count myself lucky I didn’t fall in.

If my Das had been pissed at me running out before, they were going to be livid at me staying out like this.

Carefully, I shuffle my way back to shore and lay back to watch the night sky as I wait for my eyes to fully adjust to the dark. Nothing but stars framed by a ring of trees in shadow, the chirp of insects. In the distance a frog croaks, a few seconds later I can hear an owl hoot further off. Under it all is the trickle of water out of the Spring and down the stream.

How can anyone be afraid of a place like this? It feels so peaceful.

Realer than real.

What had been with that dream? I’ve napped here all the time before, but something about that dream… Most of it was already slipping away from me, even as I tried to focus on it. A jumble of images; a boat, a woman’s reflection in the water, sails on the horizon.

I push myself up and start feeling out with my feet for a replacement torch.

Whatever, it’s just dreams, they don’t mean anything.

I am, like any proper seventeen-year-old, an expert at sneaking back into their own home.

But of course it helps to have a man on the inside. Fiach always leaves the backdoor open a smidge whenever I’m out. Sliding back in and sneaking into my room unnoticed is simple enough from there.

Yeah, there’s going to be hell to pay tomorrow, but that’s going to have to be future Dara’s problem. Better them than me.

Whispering from my parent’s bedroom stops me in my tracks as I try to slide past. Did they hear me? There’s a pause in the conversation, like they’re listening for me too. I hold my breath, press against the wall. Finally the whispering continues and I think I hear my name.

Talking about me?

What are the odds I can listen in without being caught?

“Are _all_ human children like this?”

“Well, not all, but yeah, pretty much.”

“I just didn’t expect it to go so fast.”

“I think everyone says that.”

“That doesn’t exactly make me feel better, Fiach. Did we – did I mess up somewhere? Why did I think I could–”

“Hey, hey–” Silence. Almost long enough for me to start thinking and then; “We always knew this was going to be difficult. And... they’re right, you know, you didn’t exactly give Dara a choice.”

“We talked it over, didn’t we? You agreed it made sense.”

“I’m just saying, try to look at it from their perspective. They’re still figuring out who they even are.”

“They’re _human_ , they don’t have time to–”

“I know honey, I’m human too, remember? Trust me on this one, okay? Not _everything_ needs to be rushed.”

What are they talking about? I’m ‘difficult’? Why? Because I won’t let them walk all over me? But then – I’m not sure I’ve ever heard Broin sound that… uncertain? Vulnerable? I didn’t think the old man had it in him.

I decide not to push my luck any further tonight.

* * *

“And where were you last night, Darragh?”

I slump into the chair, avoiding Fiach’s eyes. “Out.” He never uses my given name unless he’s mad. He knows how much I hate it.

“Out _where_?”

Broin sniffs, frowning as he puts a plate of scrambled eggs in front of me. “Out in the woods.”

“Safer than town!” I shoot back.

Broin doesn’t let up, “And who’s fault is that?”

Fiach takes the seat across from me, a sad expression on his face. I seem to be getting that one a lot lately. “Broin and I talked it over, and we think you should apologize to Shay. Bury this whole squabble already.”

I choke on the egg in my mouth, “W–what!? I’m not apologizing to– Shay said he’ll kill me!” I point at the bruise still heavy on my left eye. “Remember this!?”

“I’ll talk to his mom after the town meeting this afternoon.” Broin stares me down. “Stay away from him until then.”

I stare at my plate. I can’t believe this. _Apologize_? To that pig’s backside of a lugnut?

Fiach clears his throat, “There’s something else we talked about too,” He looks meaningfully at Broin.

The two of them exchange looks, Fiach raising his eyebrows higher while Broin scowls back. Finally, defeated, he sighs and turns back to me, crossing his arms. “I owe you an apology, Dara.”

I blink. “What?”

“Not many people have an aptitude for druidcraft.” Broin looks about the room, wherever he can avoid looking at me. Wow, he’s worse at apologies then I am. “When you showed interest, I…” He gestures with a hand, “I got excited. I guess. Ahead of myself. It’s been too long since–” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head. “Look, if you really don’t want to be my apprentice, I’m not going to make you, Dara. Magic won’t live in an unwilling heart.”

Fiach clears his throat again.

Broin frowns, finally looks at me. “I’m sorry for pushing you into it, Dara.”

I look between the two of them, discomfort creeping up in the back of my head. This is new. “Oh. Um.” I avoid meeting Broin’s furrowed gaze. “...thanks? I’ll, uh, I’ll think about it.”

Broin sits down between Fiach and I, “That’s all I ask.”

They don’t give me any chores after breakfast, and when Broin leaves to talk to some farmers up the north end of the island, he doesn’t tell me to come with him. Neither does Fiach when he leaves for his carpentry shop in town.

Feels weird – I’m free to do whatever I want, so why does it feel like I’m being punished? They didn’t even try to tell me to ‘stay in the house’ or anything.

I mill about the house for a while doing chores anyway; clean up the kitchen, wash out the stew pot – maybe I could get a job as a ship’s cook. Travel the world that way.

Sometimes travellers that pass through town talk about where they’ve been if you get them drunk enough. Places where wheat is like the sea, stretching from one horizon to the other, rustling in the wind like waves. Or mountains that make Maeve’s Cap look like a hill– sheer rock thrusting into the sky higher than you could ever climb.

I’ve been everywhere you can be on Oileán; just once it’d be cool to see somewhere new.

Somewhere where no one’s ever met me before.

Oh – right! I lean the broom back against the wall, glancing towards the door. That ship that came in yesterday. Would it still be there? I never had the chance to get a good look at it. Why was I wasting time here?

* * *

I swing my legs, hitting the back of my heels against the wooden box as I stare at the ship in harbor.

It’s big.

Bigger than any barc I've seen – didn’t think ships got better than that.

Surprising that they were able to maneuver into port – it even seems to be sitting higher in the water than it has any right to, which is weird. Shouldn’t it tip over, out at sea? A prickling feeling runs up my back, like I’ve seen it somewhere before but I push the thought out of my head. How could I have ever seen a magic boat before?

What kind of person with a magic boat bothers visiting an out-of-the-way nowhere-ville like Oileán?

I can barely make out a few deckhands milling around onboard. They all look bored. Waiting for something? Broin did say he had a meeting this morning. Maybe the town council was meeting with whomever owned this thing.

I bet if I kept quiet I could–

A hand grabs the back of my tunic and the world tilts upwards as I’m sharply dragged backwards off my box and I hit the ground. A burst of stars in my vision as my head hits stone.

“No frogs for me today, Darragh?”

Shay’s ugly mug swims into vision above me.

I grin up at him and blow the hair out of my face. “Sorry Shay, Da said giving you frogs was cruelty to animals.”

Shay scowls and a sharp pain blossoms in my ribs. I roll away before he can kick me again, holding one hand to my side and gritting my teeth. Shay cracks his knuckles as he lets me get my feet. “You done, dirt eater?”

“Where’s the goon squad, Shay? They finally ditch you?”

“I don’t need them just to teach you a lesson, Darragh, so man up. You’ve had this coming for a long time.”

“I’ve ‘had this coming?’” I laugh, “It was some frogs, Shay, lighten up.” No Rian or Caolon today? Not that Shay needs them – the only ways out of this alley are past him or past the boxes and into the water.

“Don’t play dumb with me!”

I tap the side of my chin, grinning. Try to ignore the pain radiating from my ribs. “Well, I’d play smart, but then you wouldn’t be able to keep up.”

I manage to duck away from the first punch but the second gets me across the jaw and I hit the side of the building to my left. Okay, maybe I went too far that time.

“What is your _deal_ Darragh?” He grabs the front of my tunic and pulls me forward until he’s glaring straight at me. “Don’t you _ever_ act like you’re better than me.” He lets go and I’m shoved back against the boxes. Shay spits on the ground in front of me before turning around and stomping away. There’s an aura of supreme smugness radiating from every pore of his over-inflated ego.

I grit my teeth, sucking in my breath. Do I _still_ have to apologize to this jerk? I twist the air between my fingers and I can feel the world listen in as I mutter an incantation before gesturing to Shay’s retreating form.

There’s the sound of a dozen frogs croaking and Shay jumps a solid foot into the air.

Oh, I shouldn’t have done that – it hurts to laugh right now.

Shay’s furious visage wheels on me, face burning red. I can’t stop my smile at the sight of it. “Is this how you get all your dates Shay?” I keep grinning, heart pounding in my chest as I steal a glance around. “No wonder Aisling told you to suck mud.”

Shay narrows his eyes at me. “The only ‘date’ you’re getting from me, is between my fists and your face.”

“Did you spend all night thinking that one up, or did your mom have to workshop it with you first?” I can’t help myself. “Oh, sorry Shay, I forgot, your ma’s too busy with more important things than you.”

I barely see the fist before I’m back on the ground, pain radiating around my right eye, head swimming. I press a palm to my eye as I twist to the side, face throbbing.

Shay looms over me, kicking me hard in the ribs again – I curl up, trying to protect my center. “That’s real rich coming from _you_ Darragh.” He huffs, waits until I’m glaring back up at him. “Your own mother left you to die in the woods – no one actually _wants_ you around, you white-haired freak.”

For once in my life, I keep my mouth shut.

“Nothing else to say, dirt-eater? No other funny jokes you wanna lay on me?” He prods his foot against my back. “I didn’t think so.”

This time, when Shay leaves, I don’t get up until I can’t hear his footsteps. I rub the back of my wrist against my mouth and come away with a smear of blood. Oh, that’s good. That’ll be fun to explain to Broin and Fiach.

Fiach first, I guess. He always keeps a first aid kit handy in his workshop. Think I might need one.

* * *

“What on earth happened to you?”

“Would you believe Shay started it?” I don’t meet Fiach’s eyes as he rubs something into the skin around my eye.

“No.” He puts the bottle in his hand down on the counter and crosses his arms at me. “Absolutely not.” Fiach’s workshop always smells like wood and metal.

“But he did!” I protest, “I was just minding my own business, and then here comes Shay! All, ‘I’m better than you and my farts don’t stink, but oh, I’m scared of frogs, respect me!’”

“Dara.” Fiach’s voice is stern. “You didn’t do _anything_ to antagonize him?” He raises an eyebrow at me.

I wilt. “Well, okay, _maybe_ I did a spell to make a bunch of frog croaks.”

“ _Dara_.”

“And _maybe_ I said something.”

“ _Dara_ …”

“He thinks he’s better than me! Just because he has a birth parent or – or whatever.” I flail at the ceiling with my hands, sending a small puff of sawdust off the counter top. “I just… he makes me so mad!”

“Dara, you know we–”

“I know, I know you love me _now_. I just…” I run my hands through my hair, pulling it around my fingers in loops. One day I’m leaving this whole dumb place behind…

Fiach clicks his tongue. “This isn’t just about that, is it?”

I don’t look at him. “What are you talking about?”

Fiach stays quiet, trying to wait me out. When I don’t bite, he shakes his head and moves on. “Oileán is too small to spend your whole life feuding with someone. We’re all in this together–”

“Oh, don’t start the whole ‘interconnected web’ stuff on me too…” I groan, pulling my hair around and around between my fingers.

“It’s true. And the sooner you figure that out, Dara, the better off you’ll be. Don’t let him get to you. Broin’s going to talk to his mom today–”

I can’t believe this. “You _still_ want me to apologize to him!?”

“I want the two of you to bury the hatchet on this whole episode and move on. I’m not expecting you to be best friends.” Fiach sighs, “How’s your chest feeling? Those bandages helping any?”

I press a hand against my ribs, a spark of pain dances up my side. “Still sore.”

“Broin will have to look at it then.” He shakes his head at me. “What are we going to do with you, Dara?”

“Get Da to kick Shay’s ass?” I offer, hopeful.

Fiach gives me a tired expression. “And that’s exactly why you aren’t telling Broin what happened until everyone’s home tonight and I can talk sense into him.”

“But–”

“No buts.”

I groan and tilt my head up to glare at the ceiling. “I’m… sorry, about last night, yeah?”

“I appreciate that, but I think it’s Broin that needs to hear it.”

I make a face at him and get to my feet. A hand on my arm stops me before I can reach the door.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

I pull my arm out of Fiach’s grasp, flinching as another spark of pain shoots up my side. “I wanted to look at that boat in the harbor.”

“Oh. That.” Fiach sighs as he steps back, letting me go.

“It’s just a boat.” When he doesn’t respond right away, I add. “I’ll behave. Promise.”

“Fine, but stay on your best behavior.” He scowls at the expression on my face. “I’m serious – Just, wait a second before you go running out the door? Okay?”

I tap a finger to my chin as Fiach turns away to go behind the counter, digging around for something. “I thought we decided my birthday was going to be on the harvest festival this year?”

“Not that,” Fiach calls back, lost behind the counter. I hear something heavy sliding around. “I kept waiting for a day where you behaved to give this to you, but I’m beginning to think that day’ll never come.”

I huff and cross my arms. For the last time, _Shay_ started it.

“Ah, here we go.” Fiach’s head pops back up from behind the counter. “Sorry, had to hide it to make sure you wouldn’t find me out early.”

“Me, snoop around?” I grin sweetly at my Da. “Never.”

“Mhm.” Fiach raises an eyebrow at me. “Just come here, Dara.”

I meet him halfway across the workshop. What on earth does Fiach have in his hand there? Usually Da’s gifts are of the more perishable kind.

He opens up his hand and holds it up for inspection. Whatever it is, it looks like it’s made out of tortoise shell. Some kind of hair clip? I look back at Fiach and he smiles at me. “Your hair is getting kind of long these days, isn’t it?”

I make a face. “I guess.” If this is just another tactic to guilt me into ‘personal hygiene’ I swear to–

“Ni Nualliáin had a bunch of these for sale a couple weeks back, thought you might want one.” He reaches out to touch my hair and I stand there, awkward as anything, as he brushes my hair back and out of my face before sliding the clip into place. “There we are, is that any better?”

Anywhere in the workshop is more interesting a direction to be looking at than my Da’s face right now. “I… guess…?” I make to brush my hair out of my face only to have my hand hang awkwardly in the air. “...thanks.”

“We can pick up more later, if that works for you.” Fiach looks at me, as if expecting me to say something more. When I don’t he just smiles and steps back. “Stay out of trouble, Dara.”

Spell broken, I turn away and make for the exit, raising a hand as I leave. “Always do!”

“I’m serious!” he calls from behind me. “And stay away from Shay!"

I leave Fiach’s workshop behind and pick my way through the maze of streets back to the harbor.

There’s a strange, light feeling in my chest – I can’t stop fiddling with the hair clip. Making sure it’s real. I swear Fiach was looking at me like we had shared some secret or – or knew something I didn’t maybe? Ugh – It’s just a hair clip, Dara, don’t go overboard about it.

I shove it out of my mind as the streets gave way to the harbor. The strange magic boat is still sitting exactly where I left it.

Well, ‘I’ didn’t leave it there, but that’s not the point. It’s only been like an hour since I left but there’s already more activity than before. Town militia are suited up and congregating at one end of the dock, away from the gangplank to the ship.

Talks going that well?

I catch Aisling’s eye, milling about outside the inn just off the dock. Are they on break or is business that slow today? They brush their hand clean on their apron before waving a greeting at me.

I return it with one of my own, grinning. “You look bored, Aisling!”

They take another look at me as I get close, brow furrowing in concern. “Wow, Dara, you look like a fish swam a thunderstorm. What happened to you?”

“Shay.” I don’t offer any further explanation other than a shrug and wince.

Aisling does not look impressed with me. “You need to stop inciting him.”

“You sound like my Da.” I groan. “Both of them. He just – he gets under my skin. I can’t stand him.” I wave a hand, I’ve wasted too much of the day on Shay already. “What’s the deal over here?”

“No idea.” Aisling shrugs. “Ma wanted me to find out why business was going so slow even with a ship in port but I’m staying well out of–” they point at the gathered militia “– _that_.”

“Think they even know how to fight?”

“Why?” Aisling’s voice is wry. “You want to test them?”

I snicker, “Maybe so!”

I lean back against the wall and we watch the harbor birds together while we catch up. Between our respective apprenticeships there hasn’t been time for much of that these days. When we were younger, Aisling promised they’d come traveling with me; we’d make up plans for how to stow away on a ship, where to get provisions, what we’d want to see…

I don’t think any of that is going to happen any more. Aisling seems pretty happy working with their ma at the Inn. We’ve been talking less and less these days.

“Hey,” Aisling taps me on the shoulder and points me over to the far enough of the harbor where the street leads towards the meeting hall. “Check it out.”

There’s Broin heading down the street, and with him is Eabha, Shay’s mother and the captain of the guard. Between the two of them is a woman with long hair; streaked with lines of orange and yellow in unnaturally bright shades. The pair of tinted spectacles obscures her eyes. From their faces, the three of them are arguing about something. Neither Broin or Eabha look happy, but the mystery woman looks unperturbed.

There’s a chuckle from beside me, “That one’s got hair even weirder than yours, yeah?” Aisling says.

I click my tongue and shrug. “Yeah, Sort of.” I put a hand to my shoulder, pulling hair in loops around my finger. “I guess.” Have I seen her before somewhere?

“You gonna go check it out?”

“Huh?” I look back at Aisling and realize I’ve already stepped a few feet away from them. “Yeah, I guess. I’ll talk to my Da. You want to come with?”

They shake their head. “I’m good, let me know how it goes?”

“Mm.”

I pick up the pace as I walk across the harbor. Broin sees me first, and I stick up my hand in greeting to him. He shakes his head at me but I don’t stop my approach. “Afternoon, Da.” I put a finger to my forehead as I look at Eabha. “Captain.”

“Dara?” Broin stares at me, “What happened to– No, later,” he holds out a hand, warding me off. “Now is not the time.”

Eabha looks even less happy to see me. “Listen to your father.”

I smile brightly at both of them, then at the woman between the two. “Who’s the special guest?”

“Someone just leaving.” Broin says.

“Trading partner,” Eabha answers at the same time.

The two of them glare at each other.

The woman puts a hand to each of their shoulders and says something in Common. Broin’s expression only sours at it. Eabha eyes me then looks back to the woman and says something back to her, gesturing between me and Da.

Whatever Eabha says, the woman’s lips quirk upwards. She offers a hand towards me and then, in slow, basic common says, “Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Veronica.”

I grin and take her hand, shaking it. “Dara,” I answer.

She smiles back, revealing pointed teeth.


End file.
